I turned on the old flatbed scanner, its bright green light moving slowly under the glass.

Caroline organized the files on her laptop, creating a digital folder titled ‘Thomas Harper – Legal’.

She categorized the emails by date, starting from the oldest ones sent when she was just a toddler.

The words on the screen were cold and cruel.

*I don’t care what you do with her,* Thomas had written to Rebecca in 2011.

*My mother wants to ruin her life raising a disabled kid, that’s her choice.*

*Just don’t expect me to sign my name to any birth certificate or pay for her medical bills.*

My hands shook as I scanned the physical printouts.

I had known Thomas was selfish, but seeing his hatred written in black and white was different.

It was a physical weight in the room.

“How could a father write that?” Caroline whispered, reading over my shoulder.

“He’s not a father, sweetheart,” I said.

“He’s just the person who helped bring you into the world.”

“A father is someone who stays.”